The Boy King

If I were kingly for a day

I'd crown my head and run away,

Then taking lands by brutish force,

Gold I would steal on a broken horse.

A queen I'd take to be my wife,

Though surly I'll have more in life.

Country by country, land by land,

The poor and crepid will kiss my hand,

Though soon, fed up, begin to stir,

People protest to call me sir.

In a dungeon I shall be thrown,

Or, worse yet, they will slit my throat.

If I were kingly for a day,

That crown would run my mind astray.

Nay, not a king am I set to be,

Nor any man it would seem to me.